The Orvud Oracle
by namestakem
Summary: Anton Drake values three things in life. His budding newspaper, the Orvud Oracle. His on-and-off love interest, Captain Lara Stendahl of the Military Police. And, of course, revolution. Come and follow the adventures of Anton and Lara, as well as their merry band of misfits, as they seek to change the world. Probably will contain spoilers for those who don't read the manga.


_Year 845, Four Days After the Fall of Wall Maria_

The nights in the Orvud District were notoriously quiet. Out of the four outcropping districts of Wall Sina, the northernmost city had by far the least active nightlife. This was perfectly fine, as far as Anton Drake was concerned. It meant fewer distractions from his life's work.

For the self-proclaimed journalist extraordinaire, the days were long, and the nights were much, much longer. While his employees slept in shifts, with one of them manning the printing press at all times, Anton was left to put the day's stories into words. As the founder of the _Oracle_, it was his duty to make sure the public received the highest quality news possible.

Anton tapped his finger against the edge of his desk. The sleeve of his oversized suit stretched far past his wrist, giving it the appearance of a robe in some respects. Though one would think the son of a nobleman would be able to afford clothes that actually fit, Anton had made a point to spend his entire inheritance on his upstart newspaper. The only clothes he wore, therefore, were the ones left behind by his late father, a man who was much wider than Anton.

"Hey, boss? Is it supposed to look like this?"

The call came from the other room, where Anton's subordinates were, at least in theory, working on putting his words into print. Running a hand through his messy brown hair, the lanky man rose from the seat at his desk and went to observe the latest problem.

Anton strode into the front room on his long, bony legs. The room's air was heavy and filled with dust, thanks in no small part to the monstrous printing press sitting in the very center of it. As he entered, he was quickly handed a sheet of freshly printed paper by his newest employee, a black-haired woman who had started just that day.

"The_ Orvud Oracle_, brought to you by Anton Drake…"

Reading those words aloud never failed to make him quiver with ecstasy.

"Yes, my dear Candy," he answered, continuing to examine the front page of his masterpiece. "This is exactly what it is supposed to look like. Excellent work!"

"Thanks, boss," said the short, freckled woman. "But, if I may… My name's Cortney."

"Ah, yes, my apologies." Anton shook his head. "Names are not my strongest suit, I'm afraid."

Cortney nodded, knowing better than to make a big deal out of it. The other two occupants of the room, a pair of men who had also been hired by Anton, could only glance at each other in confirmation. This was not the first nor the last time he would make such a mistake.

"Now, then, we have but a few hours until sunrise," the stick-figured man continued. "Once we have the copies we need for circulation, you three should all go home and rest up. Until then, however, I bid you farewell. I must get to work on tomorrow's edition."

"You got it, boss," replied Cortney with a wide grin.

After waltzing back into his office, Anton closed the door and sighed. Neither he nor any of his employees had gotten more than an hour or two of sleep all night, and though that was entirely by design, it was still quite a lot for him to handle. As he sat down at his desk, he took great care not to let his eyes fall shut for even a moment.

With the attack on Shinganshina and the fall of Wall Maria, there was no shortage of news for the _Orvud Oracle_ to report. This was both a blessing and a curse for Anton, as it meant he would not need to scrounge about for whatever bits and pieces of news he could find, but it also gave him a dilemma as to which stories were even worth printing in his limited space.

It was hard for Anton to tell whether it was fate or simply a coincidence that such a cataclysmic event had occurred so soon after the launch of his paper. The _Oracle_ had barely been in business for a month, and he had still not learned the names of his workers, and yet here they were, providing the people of Wall Sina's northernmost district with as much information as could be crammed into the pages of a newspaper.

Anton rolled his head back, barely able to comprehend the situation he had been placed in. He was unsure of how much time passed before his office's door burst open.

"Hello?" He sat up quickly and reached for a candle, only to realize it was already light outside.

"You look very comfortable, Anton," came a familiar voice, as its owner began to cross the room toward him. "Sorry I had to disturb you, but I grew bored of waiting."

"It can't be…"

His eyes widened as the olive-skinned woman in the Military Police uniform approached the desk. Her creamy light brown hair spilled over her shoulders and cascaded down her back, and the morning sunlight shining through the window gave her a downright angelic appearance.

"I'm not sure why you're so surprised," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I'm sure you heard I was transferring back to Orvud. It seems not much gets past you, my love."

"Lara…" Anton chuckled, before standing up and facing her. "Indeed, I would be lying if I said I had not been informed of your return. However, I assumed you had better things to do."

Anton had known Lara Stendahl since long before she attained the rank of Captain in the Military Police. The two of them had shared a life together prior to Lara's transfer to the interior district of Mitras, but based on the way they left things, Anton had not expected her to behave this way upon seeing him again.

"That would be true of my former self." Lara tilted her head up toward his scruffy face. "But the interior has made me into a different woman. I now have a better grasp of what's important."

She reached out her hand and lightly grasped the sleeve of his oversized suit jacket.

"I understand your desire for freedom, Anton. That's why I've brought you this."

Pulling back her hand, Lara reached inside her jacket and presented him with a decrepit-looking book. Its cover was caked with dirt, but Anton could still make out the title.

"'Hamlet?'"

He held the book in his hands, flipping through the pages, and examining every strange feature that he came across. Though the book was written in the same language that was spoken within the walls, many of the words were spelled awkwardly, to the point where an educated man like Anton could still make sense of it, but a common person would likely be unable to.

"I came across it during my last case in Mitras," Lara explained. "Once I started reading, I had an immensely difficult time putting it down. I knew immediately that it was destined for you."

"My dearest Lara…" Anton grasped the book tightly. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

* * *

From the moment Lara bid him farewell, Anton had done nothing but pore through the book she left for him. With each page, his hunger grew stronger. He felt every bit of angst and desire that Hamlet did, and it was as if he himself could see through the eyes of the character. Never before had Anton experienced such a tremendous rush.

By the time he finished the book, Cortney had already arrived for her shift.

"Hey, boss?" he heard, as the young woman poked her head through the door.

"My dear Catherine!" Anton's head shot up from his desk. "Today seems to have passed me by entirely. Is it time to begin printing already?"

"Fernando and Sergey are waiting in the other room," she confirmed, not bothering to correct him. "Do you have the stories in here?"

Anton grasped his scalp with both hands. He had been so entrenched in the story of Hamlet that he had forgotten all about the stories he was supposed to write.

"O, villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!" he scolded himself, quoting Hamlet directly. "Forgive me, my dear, but I haven't procured a single story for tomorrow's issue! We're ruined! Ruined!"

"Um, boss?" Anton blinked as he looked past Cortney, toward the brawny blonde man peeking over her shoulder. "If you need some stories, I've got some."

"You… You what?" Hardly able to believe his ears, Anton brought his hands down from atop his head and listened intently to Sergey.

"While I'm out during the day, I like to listen to what people talk about," he explained. "Then, when I get home, I write about what I hear. It's just a hobby of mine."

Anton's heart was beating at twice its normal rate. Whether it was from his own exhaustion or just pure relief, the only son of the Drake family fell to the floor and passed out.

* * *

He awoke to the sound of three familiar voices. As his eyes adjusted to the candlelight, Anton was able to make out the vague outlines of his three employees as they took turns lifting sheets of warm paper from out of the printing press.

"Hey, boss!" Cortney was the first to notice. She waltzed over to Anton's limp body, followed by the quiet, black-haired Fernando. Sergey continued to work as he observed from a distance.

"My dearest Cathy…" Anton struggled to speak. "What hour is it, if I may ask?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "But we're just about done printing. You don't need to worry."

"May I… May I see it?"

Cortney was puzzled for a moment, before she realized what he meant.

"Right, of course." She motioned to the black-haired man standing behind her, and Fernando nodded before walking a few paces to his right and grabbing a folded stack of papers. He handed it to Cortney, who placed it directly in front of Anton.

"The_ Orvud Oracle_, brought to you by Anton Drake…"

He smiled, finally knowing for certain that he was in good hands.

"Thank you. Thank you all so much."

Cortney and Fernando stood back as Anton rose to his feet. He no longer felt even a hint of exhaustion, as his newfound sense of purpose was driving him harder than ever before.

"I can see now that I have underestimated the three of you," he began. "You are all capable of so much more than what I initially thought. Therefore, starting today, I am instituting several changes. I want you to think of the _Oracle _not as _my_ newspaper. But rather, _our_ newspaper."

He stuck his index finger directly out in front of him.

"Starting today, it shall be known as the _Orvud Oracle_. Brought to you by Anton Drake, Cortney Warrington, Fernando Tarrelind, and Sergey Nettlerose!"

The trio before him began to grin widely.

"Hey, at least he got our first names right," remarked Cortney.

* * *

That morning, after his co-workers had left to deliver their share of papers to the public, Anton was once again visited by Captain Stendahl.

"You really finished the whole thing in one day?" Lara raised an eyebrow. "I can't believe I'm surprised. I seem to have forgotten who I'm talking to."

"You're as incredible as ever, my dearest Lara." Anton's fingers tightened around the book's edges. "This book… It has answered so many questions that I never would have even thought to ask in the first place. You understand what this book means, don't you?"

"I have a bit of an idea," she replied.

"As you're aware, my father was the premiere authority on literature within these walls," continued the giddy man. "That was the reason why he became acquainted with King Fritz, as well as the reason why he was made a noble. As a boy, I spent hours upon hours poring over the works of the legendary authors of our world. However, in all of my father's collections, there is not a single mention of a man named William Shakespeare."

"That settles it, then." Lara placed her right hand on top of the book, as if swearing an oath.

"This book is proof of a world outside these walls," Anton finished.

"Anton…" A warm smile washed over Lara's face. "We're going to see the outside world. And we're going to rule over it."


End file.
